Kobayashi Maru
by Starkid191
Summary: "The purpose of the test was to experience fear, fear in the face of death, and to overcome that fear." Trapped behind the glass, Kirk reflects on his past, his present, his future, and all the might-have-beens. Oneshot References to Star Trek 2009, Into Darkness and Wrath of Khan - slight spoilers. Please R&R.


**IDNOST(BIWID)**

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"_The purpose is to experience fear. Fear in the face of death."_

It was a sick kind of joke, he thought, that the very incident which had brought about his captaincy mirrored so perfectly the one that was about to end it.

At the time, he hadn't really understood Spock. He'd been cocky, headstrong – not interested in lectures or rules. He hadn't understood the concept of dying for your crew. He couldn't see the point of it. Everyone had always used his dad as an example – but look where that had gotten him.

As a kid, he'd resented it. Why sacrifice yourself like that? A father shouldn't leave his children. A captain shouldn't leave his crew. But which was more important? The crew were safely out; the ship had been abandoned, or was in the process of emptying at least. He could have escaped. He could have left. There was no reason for his father to leave.

But he did, choosing crew over child, and so Jim grew up, fatherless – motherless too most of the time, with his mother constantly off planet or working odd jobs and night shifts to try and earn enough money to keep them alive. –mild and reckless, teaching himself not to care. Care meant emotional bonds. And bonds could be broken.

And then she'd married _him. _Life had changed for the worse, if possible. Instead of no father, there was _that man, _and that was just as bad. He was glad his mother was never there. It meant that she didn't have to see. Yes, there'd been slightly more money, slightly more food on the table, and an almost promise of a roof over their heads, but it wasn't love. No where near. She'd married him for the little money he had, and they all knew it. But he'd been a drunk and an idiot, and an angry, violent man, and it hadn't been a happy time. When his mother was home it got slightly better, but when she was off planet, there was no-one to deflect his anger. And so Jim had gone out of his way to rebel, learning to keep the charade – to always look confident, to always act like you didn't care, all the time patching up the wounds underneath. It had taken him decades, but he'd sealed the scars. Not healed…just hidden.

She'd died, soon after his eighteenth birthday. She died and left him alone. His stepfather had died a few years previously, so Jim got the house and any money left. He spent his time putting his genius to good use, earning enough money to live. Not live well, but live. He'd lived alone, out in the middle of nowhere – just him, his bike, and his house. He'd ignored the ache in his heart, immersing himself in drink and women and breaking the law. He may have been 'the only genius repeat-offender in the Midwest', but that didn't make him special. If there was one thing that Jim Kirk had learnt, it was that he was nothing.

Nothing. With a capital N.

And then, in a matter of months, after keeping the barriers up for so long, he had weakened and cracked and let people in. He supposed he should have noticed the dam starting to break when Bones first wormed his way in, and he definitely should have noticed the thin trickle that began to escape when he took control of the Enterprise for the first time. He should have noticed the stream that began to flow when he was made captain, but he'd only realised how much he'd opened up when it all got taken away from him. When Spock had betrayed him, and he'd been punished for saving a colleague. Yet another reason why Jim Kirk shouldn't have friends. They always let you down.

He'd realised that again when Scotty quit on him. But he'd continued with the charade – cracking jokes about Spock and Uhura's relationship, flirting with the new science officer, being Jim Kirk. And it had worked, for a time. People had believed that there was nothing wrong, despite the recent death of the only person he'd ever looked up to as a father. That was why James Tiberius Kirk didn't get a father figure. They always died.

And it was always his fault.

But he'd patched up the cracks the best he could, keeping his distance from those who might've been able to tell something was wrong. He'd avoided medical examinations with Bones, xenolinguistic and communications meetings with Uhura, talks about the Enterprise's warp core and various engineering problems with Chekov, always making excuses or sending delegates. Spock was more easy to deceive. The Vulcan was still hazy on the whole 'emotions' thing.

He couldn't, however, ignore the torrent that had been unleashed as Khan threatened his crew. There were _his_ crew, _his_ responsibility, and _his_ family. Finally, he'd understood. A captain had to go down with his ship, because without the ship, there was no captain. Without the Enterprise and her crew, there was no point to Kirk's life.

He often wondered about the other Jim Kirk – the one that future Spock had known. Had he had the same upbringing? Jim doubted it. From what Spock had said, George Kirk had survived, completely changing Jim's childhood. For all he knew, he could have had everything – family meals together, sitting around the table discussing school reports or the latest news. Arguments – petty squabbles with younger siblings. Enough food on the table, clothes that fitted, a stay-at-home mother who looked after him, and sang him to sleep, and took care of him when he was ill. A father who took him to practice and supported him, and taught him all he needed to know. Everything that everyone else took for granted. Simple things. Simple things that made a world of difference.

Maybe he wouldn't have ended up here. Maybe he wouldn't have ended up trapped behind a glass sheet, watching the world slip slowly from his grasp. Maybe he wouldn't have cared as much. Maybe he would have cared more. Maybe the fact that he had a whole family to care for meant that he didn't care for this crew so much. Maybe he'd been more open, more obvious. He'd once heard someone say that it was the most damaged people who laughed the loudest. He'd agreed - it was true. It was true because they had the most to hide and they didn't want anyone seeing the dark depths of their broken, twisted soul. It was true because they knew the value of true laughter, and if they could make someone happy, just for a moment, then didn't it make their lives just a little bit more worthwhile?

But if he didn't end up here, now, then who did? Scotty? Had the plucky Scotsman rushed in to save his beloved Enterprise? Or Spock, yet again sacrificing himself for the sake of logic? Had they been destined to exchange places, with the Vulcan slowly draining of life whilst Kirk watched? Or had it always been this way? Was this always how Jim Kirk died?

He didn't regret it. He didn't regret any of it. Not for a moment. There was nothing greater than to die for than your crew, your family. Like Khan had said – there was nothing he would not do for his crew.

Finally, he believed in no-win scenarios. If he was perfectly honest, he always had. He'd just pretended not to, because that's what Jim Kirk would have done. But he'd always know that the inevitable would come, and that one day he'd reach a point where there was no escape. It had just come a little sooner than anticipated.

And yes, he was scared. He'd been scared from the moment he'd sat in the captain's chair for the first time. But finally, he felt, he'd passed the Kobayashi Maru. He'd experienced fear in the face of death, and he'd overcome it. He'd done right by his crew and his ship, and now he could do no more.

Captain James Tiberius Kirk smiled and closed his eyes.

"Kirk out."

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